In which a much-needed phone call is made, and another damn What-If is asked...
Got online this morning and saw that BFJeff had 'poked' me. (IN A GOOFY FACEBOOK WAY, PERVS.)
Whoops. We've both been so busy that we haven't talked in weeks. This isn't uncommon, unfortunately, but with us it's easily amendable. (Kind of SOP, really, unfortunately. Good thing we like each other so well, eh?)
So, called. Talked. Tried not to cry when talking about The Big Poke-Around and what it entails (and he got on to me for researching the details), and I said something about not knowing if I'll be okay.
To which he said, paraphrased (but close to verbatim), "You don't know if you're not gonna be okay."
Well, yeah, I said. ("Well, yeah," he mocked teasingly. I let him live.)
So. There is a point of view that, for whatever reason, I haven't entertained. Mostly because we haven't talked in a while so he can point it out to me. He can see through my neurosis and find what needs to be said, and he isn't afraid to say it.
So I'm hoping that everything here goes well enough that he doesn't have to take the job he's being offered just outside of Tulsa. (Long damn story that I'm not at liberty to tell.) Sure, we'll have phone calls and Facebook, but I have a feeling the distance will put an even bigger kibosh on our communication. There's times when I need him, and I suspect there's times where I come in handy as well.
So. There's that. Another fucking ball in the fucking air.
I'm gonna have another short cry about things (can't help it, shush, I'm getting most of it over with as I type this) and finish laundry and get something to eat.
This year can go straight to hell. Or vastly improve after Memorial Day, to the point of me (or BFJeff and TLB*) winning the lottery.
*-TLB = That Lucky Broad, or BFJeff's wife. I like her to the point of calling her a broad - this is a good thing in my book.
Whoops. We've both been so busy that we haven't talked in weeks. This isn't uncommon, unfortunately, but with us it's easily amendable. (Kind of SOP, really, unfortunately. Good thing we like each other so well, eh?)
So, called. Talked. Tried not to cry when talking about The Big Poke-Around and what it entails (and he got on to me for researching the details), and I said something about not knowing if I'll be okay.
To which he said, paraphrased (but close to verbatim), "You don't know if you're not gonna be okay."
Well, yeah, I said. ("Well, yeah," he mocked teasingly. I let him live.)
So. There is a point of view that, for whatever reason, I haven't entertained. Mostly because we haven't talked in a while so he can point it out to me. He can see through my neurosis and find what needs to be said, and he isn't afraid to say it.
So I'm hoping that everything here goes well enough that he doesn't have to take the job he's being offered just outside of Tulsa. (Long damn story that I'm not at liberty to tell.) Sure, we'll have phone calls and Facebook, but I have a feeling the distance will put an even bigger kibosh on our communication. There's times when I need him, and I suspect there's times where I come in handy as well.
So. There's that. Another fucking ball in the fucking air.
I'm gonna have another short cry about things (can't help it, shush, I'm getting most of it over with as I type this) and finish laundry and get something to eat.
This year can go straight to hell. Or vastly improve after Memorial Day, to the point of me (or BFJeff and TLB*) winning the lottery.
*-TLB = That Lucky Broad, or BFJeff's wife. I like her to the point of calling her a broad - this is a good thing in my book.